Sentenced
by Livs Torres
Summary: A Dalish elf surviving among a world of shemlens in Fereldan's infamous Circle. Also, a forbidden romance with the young templar, Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

I remember my very first day at the Circle. It's hard to imagine who couldn't. I watched in awe as Master Irving, who would later become my mentor, led me through the Tower's Inner Gates. The pillars, the columns, the marble… they shone like opals in the sun. It was beautiful. So was the lake for that matter, with weeping willow trees outlining the water's edge, kissing its surface. I could see myself spending a lot of my free time there, if allowed.

But for now, my life remained at the Tower. After the Gates, there came the atrium, or the main entrance hall. The ceiling seemed open to the sky, when in reality there was a thin layer of glass that separated us from its clouds. It was as if an illusion. A very clever illusion. Anyways, the atrium's walls were painted a dim blue – my favorite color. Some bookshelves lined the walls along with a few templars, stationary at their posts. I didn't like the way they looked. They looked so… menacing. Bright, silver chest plates guarded their torsos and double edges swords hung by their waists. I felt my blood turn cold as I passed by their wandering eyes. Both shemlens and mage killers… they meant trouble, that I knew.

I wonder what they saw when they looked at me. A mage? An elf? Nothing? Was I nothing to them?

Perhaps.

But besides the templars… there were mages. Everywhere. Scattered in the hallways, the chapels, their rooms, in the library. I didn't know there were so many of them. I didn't realize how many of us there really were. Well, not "us," exactly, but those close to my kind. As close as human-elf genetics can come, I guess. Master Irving took me from the atrium down a few hallways, where storage rooms branched off to either side. Nothing particularly was exciting on the first floor, or so I was told, so we then ventured up into the second, where the apprentice dorms were. They were nice, for newcomers, at least. He showed me a few before we stopped at another, which I knew was my own. I could spot my things amongst the bed, the vanity, the shelves and closets. I had my own since I was… well, what they called "unique."

I suppose that I was. I was the only "volunteer" mage that they had ever encountered in Fereldan's Circle, apparently. And an elven one, at that. By volunteer, I literally mean volunteer. The shemlens had never known of my clan's existence until I had stepped forward and proclaimed my desire to be taken to the Tower so that I might learn how to handle my magic. Why?

It was my father's last request.

My father, the old Keeper of our clan, had envisioned a future for all of Thedas – a future where shemlens and elves could live in peace with each other without the conflict of discord. It wouldn't be easy, he always said, but it was possible.

"Anything is possible, little one," he would tell me.

The others hadn't reacted well to this dream of his. They had called him crazy, along with a few other names that I won't bother to mention. I admit, it does seem crazy to me, even now, as I walk along the stone pathways of this place.

However, before his death, and on the coronation of my last birthday, my father had pulled me aside.

"I want you to do something for me, lethallan." he had started. "It won't be easy, but I know you can do it."

I had looked at him in wonder, trying to contemplate what he'd meant.

"What is it?"

"Carry my dream with you. Believe in it. Anything is possible, darling. I fear for our people… we are not as we once were. I don't believe that we will ever be, again, without the shemlen's help. But, I cannot do this alone. I need your help."

I can remember my mouth popping open at his words. Help? From _shelmens_? No way.

But, he looked at me so intensely, his emerald eyes… my eyes, burning into my own – pleading with me. For my help. I couldn't refuse, yet, I didn't know how I could help him.

After he died, though, my destiny seemed clear.

So, I turned myself in. Our clan had passed a few humans on the way during our travels, that is, after my father's death. Templars, nonetheless. They were searching for an apostate that had escaped the Tower. I think his name was Anders. They never found him. But, they did find something else - what they did, was not what they had had in mind.

"Alena."

Master Irving's voice pierced my thoughts and I was brought back to reality.

"What? Oh… I'm – I'm sorry." My head felt suddenly foggy as I stuttered my way to an apology.

He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I strangely relaxed. "It's a lot to take in, lethallan." I was surprised at his use of the elven language. What else does this man know?"

"Yes… yes it is."


	2. Chapter 2

I also remember the first day I saw _him._

Books absolutely surrounded me in the library. There were so many of them. I couldn't even comprehend how there was so much information in the world to learn from. My clan had come across very little books in our travels – to have one was a privilege and often become family heirlooms. That's not to say that we were illiterate people, however, it was a rarity to even see one.

Books allowed us to do so many things. Especially mages. We could learn from them, add to them, and even create spells from them. The latter was strictly forbidden in the Circle, for it could be very dangerous and ultimately detrimental to the entire Tower if something by chance went wrong. But… I just couldn't help myself. There were so many possibilities! A spell to bloom flowers, one to boil water, one to summon other books not easily found… I did it all. Granted, I felt guilty about all of it, but it's not like I was doing blood magic.

I shuddered.

Sometimes, I suspected that Master Irving really did have an inkling about what I did in the libraries, for that was where I did most of my spell-crafting. Usually, it was late at night, before curfew. Occasionally, I would even sneak out of my room just so I could be among all of my books again. Yet, sometimes, I just wanted to actually _be _there, in the library, just to be. It was so peaceful in here, as if it was hallowed ground. And like hallowed ground, hardly anyone in the Circle stepped foot on its marble floor. The shemlens never really did appreciate what they had – especially knowledge. They would grunt and groan about having to read a tome for their studies, while I poured over mine in eager sincerity. I just didn't get it.

One night I had snuck out of the dorms and headed towards the library door. Just as I was about to round the corner, I heard something. A voice. A very quiet, soft-spoken voice. I almost couldn't hear it.

Almost.

"_The two sat apart, separated by mere inches, neither one of them willing to move, for a single move could ruin everything. A single move could crumble everything beneath them, leaving them to fall with no way out. How tragic, to be apart. How tragic, to be in love. Separated."_

My breath stopped as I recognized the words from my favorite novel. It was _Separated, _a tragedy about forbidden love between a young man and woman. I discovered it the first week I was here, in the library, of course. It was old and worn, as if it had passed between generations of mages, and perhaps it had. But, I read it with such enthusiasm that I finished it over the course of three days, in between my studies. When Master Irving had caught me reading it, he shook his head and smiled. A silly book for a silly girl.

My attention was brought back to the beautiful voice coming from the library, once more. It was masculine, but gentle. If I could just see who it was…

Suddenly, footsteps appeared down the hallway, aiming for this direction. I darted down the next hallway, waiting for them to dissipate. They stopped at the library.

"Cullen."

It was Irving.

The young man's voice abruptly stopped, followed by a rustle of movement.

"M-Master Irving."

I couldn't help it. I slithered back towards the door and looked inside, catching a glimpse of who the young voice belonged to.

I recognized him.

He was a templar.

"Cullen, do you know what hour it is?" Master Irving folded his arms, though a smile was plastered onto his face. He was always so devious looking, in an endearing way.

The man named Cullen stood up, immediately closing the book he was reading. His warm, brown eyes shied away from Irving's and his body tensed, as if waiting for impact. He wasn't in his usual templar armor, but rather a white tunic that showed his developed muscles.

I thought that it suited him far more than his other attire.

Cullen looked around nervously, that is, until he saw me. His mouth dropped open a bit and his beautiful eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he clenched his jaw so that Irving wouldn't see. I'm sure that he did, yet he did nothing.

We broke eye contact and Cullen addressed Master Irving again, who was waiting expectantly for him.

"Uh… it's very late?"

Irving laughed. "You're very right there, boy. It is late, and you should be in your bed."

I swear I could have heard Cullen sigh. "I'm on my way, sir."

More movement caused me to run back to the other hallway, so neither could spot me. Irving left first, leaving the way he came from, which was peculiar. Cullen followed a few minutes behind, and when I couldn't hear him anymore I shuffled back to the library, checking for anyone else who might be in there.

"Hey, wait a second."

I spun around in alarm, clutching my chest as my heart stopped in its tracks. It was Cullen again.

We were close enough where I see that he was more handsome that I had originally thought, with his square jaw and thick eyelashes. There were curls in his hair too, subtle, but there. His eyes were not even brown, but coffee colored, and his teeth as he smiled, were perfect and straight.

He was beautiful. Too beautiful.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to scare you." A frown tugged the corner of lips downwards.

"No… no. I'm okay," I murmured.

Was I, though?

"You're… Alena, right? The new mage?"

I smiled just a bit, and he smiled back.

"Yeah… I am. How did you know?"

"Templar, remember?" He frowned again, as if he was unhappy to admit that. "It's my job, apparently."

"Right."

He shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arms, but not menacingly. "Thanks for not ratting me out. I appreciate it."

"No problem. I find myself sneaking in all the time just to read."

My blood turned to ice. Why did I say that?

He seemed confused for a second and then erupted in quiet laughter. "I know the feeling. So do I."

I was relieved.

Quickly, he scanned the hallway that we were in and brought his attention back to me. "Well… I better get to bed before Irving finds me out of it, again."

I laughed with him this time. "Yeah… me too. He always seems to know everything that goes on around here."

"That he does."

Neither of us knew what to say for a moment, so we simply looked at each other. He was so foreign to me, and I to him, as an elf _would _be to a shemlen. It was strange… but not unpleasant.

As if he heard me, his eyes traveled to the points of my ears, and he smiled again, this time to himself. There was a lot of smiling going on between us, it seemed.

"You know… you're the first elf here."

"Is that a bad thing?" I ran a hand through the waves of my hair so that it covered the tips up.

"Not at all! I didn't mean to suggest…" He then raised a hand as if to tuck a piece of hair back behind my ear, but stopped, flushing in advance. "Sorry… I'm a bit awkward, really. Always have been."

It was my turn to laugh. "It's okay… I get that a lot. And don't worry, I'm awkward too. It's in my heritage, I think."

"Well, I don't think so." His eyes were earnest, boring into mine. "I think you're quite interesting in fact." Then, he blushed again.

Before even letting me speak, he stroked the back of his neck and sighed. "I really should be getting to bed. But… maybe I'll see you later. In the library perhaps?"

My stomach turned with butterflies and I scolded myself for being so stupid. "Uhm… yeah! Sure. Maybe some time."

His smile made me feel so warm and I chastised myself once more, for it would never work. What was I thinking?

But, when he smiled, I knew that he was thinking the same exact thing.

"_How tragic, to be apart. How tragic, to be in love. Separated"_


End file.
